


A broken world.

by EvilBatPumpkin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catelyn's going to get it bad, I can't put every character in the above list, Multi, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Only 2 characters need to survive this >:-D, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, We'll get there.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilBatPumpkin/pseuds/EvilBatPumpkin
Summary: This is inspired by a Fanfic on fanfiction.net called the drowned wolf by SwordoftheMorning. He hasn't updated fro about a year, and so I tire of waiting. This is my interpretation of how I would've liked it to end.It starts with the tourney of Harrenhall and powerful forces are at work. After the disastrous events of his sister Lyanna's abduction by the crown prince, a certain second son meets a force that he isn't ready for.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try so please try to be civil if you comment. Any details that I've got wrong please do tell me. Also tell me about typos and grammatical errors.

Eddard Stark, second son of Rickard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Ten years ago his father had sent him to foster at the Eyrie under Jon Arryn as his father, being a man of ambition, wanted to improve the North's relations with the South. Southerners were often a bit xenophobic and Lord Rickard might've wanted to rectify that, but suspected it was more likely that his father wanted a higher social standing. In the vale he had met Robert Baratheon, heir to Storm's End and the two had become friends while at the castle.

"Eddard" called the Lord of the Eyrie "I've received a message from your father"  
Ned wearily sat up and made his way to the main hall of the castle. A room with a large aperture in the floor called the moon door. It looked down into the valley below, obscured by water vapour. It was through this whole that condemned men where thrown. 

"Lord Whent is holding a tourney in honour of his daughter at Harrenhall. It'll be vast most of the significant lords of the realm are invited. Anyway your father seems to want you to go" jon said, and, noticing Ned's look of apprehension said "Both your brothers and your sister will be there"

Ned suddenly felt, though uneasy about it, a lot more exited. When he had last seen his sibling Bran had been 9, Lyanna was 6 and Benjen, 5. A this tourney Ned would finally see them grown-up and not just hear about them the occasional letters. he wondered if Lyanna and Benjen even remembered what he was like.   
"Your father wants Robert to come as well" Lord Arryn continued. "About the betrothal between your sister and Robert."

Robert had just had a bastard daughter in the Vale with a commoner. Ned would have to mention that to his family at the right moment.

"When do I leave my lord?"

"In a fortnight" came the reply.


	2. Eddard I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3rd attempt at uploading. Sorry it's such a slow fanfic.
> 
> All of Westeros belongs to GRRM

They left the Eyrie a good time and the ride to the tournament, though scenic was laborious. They passed through a pass in the mountains of the moon wary of an attack from the barbaric mountain clans like the burnt men or painted dogs, who answered to no one. After that, when they had made it through the most perilous part of their journey, they stopped at every tree like a dog. Either Robert was thirsty or Elbert Arryn was tired or the guards were grumbling and thus they had go into every single tavern. He thanked the old gods that Lord Arryn had forbidden any single member of their party’s entrance into a brothel. If he hadn’t, they probably would’ve missed the event altogether.

“How much longer do you think we will take?” he asked one of the more senior looking knights accompanying them.  
“It should take one more day’s riding” came the gruff reply “But adding in a couple of taverns, rest and another drunken soldier falling off his horse, we should arrive by noon tomorrow. Don’t worry, Lord Arryn foresaw this and we left in good time.”

This was the first time he was going to stay in a different kingdom apart from the Vale and the North. He had briefly seen the Riverlands while going from the North to the Vale at the age of eight. Yet he had fallen ill due to the new southern climate during that journey   
and didn’t remember much about the central kingdom of Westeros. To tell the truth it wasn’t the most memorable of places. It didn’t the mysterious ancient, abandoned structures littered with the runes of the men of old the belonged to the North, nor did it have the striking jagged peaks of the Vale. It was a dull and muddy landscape, with rivers crisscrossing through. He heard one of his companions from the Vale joke that the Riverlands wasn’t a kingdom at all, but instead just a glorified battlefield run self-obsessed fisherman who had gained power by licking Aegon the Conqueror’s feet. He rolled his eyes at the remark. House Tully was often looked down upon by other great houses because of its humble roots and the fact that it wasn’t really the best at anything. Still, his brother would marry one, it was a very dishonourable deed to mock another house’s background.

“Ned!” shouted Robert “you must come and visit Storm’s End after this. The Stormlands are far less dreary than this place.”  
He answered vaguely, just wishing that this journey of drunken blabber and useless smalltalk would soon be over. Fortunately as the old Vale knight had said, they arrived at noon the next day. He gazed in wonder the ruins of the the citadel that Harren the Black, King of the Isles and Rivers had built to cement his eternal domination. The mighty fortress which had been incinerated bey Aegon’s dragons. It’s black walls loomed over them ominously as they made their way towards it, with dark spires shrouded by eerie mists reaching up into the heavens above. Just south of here was the Isle of Faces, the only place, save Raventree Hall, weirwoods still remained. It sat somewhere, shrouded by fog in the God’s Eye lake. On the island were the mysterious green men. Zealots of the old gods, whom even Aegon the Conqueror couldn’t overcome. Few men even attempted to find the lake and of those who did, either came back empty handed or didn’t come back at all. With these thoughts over, Eddard stark sternly proceeded towards the sea of tents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ship you would like to see? Tell me! The chapter will get longer and longer, don't worry.


	4. Lyanna I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. A bit longer this time.   
> I don't own anything. All characters, place names and more belong to GRRM

She’d gone off to explore the Riverlands scenery trying not to bump into any highborn on the way(she’d had strict orders from her father not to be seen in riding gear) before changing into a dress when she heard grunts and muffled shouts from behind a tall fern. She approached gingerly and started to distinguish other sounds such as the rustling of clothing and the sound of something hitting something else. She peeked through at where she thought the sounds to have originated from and was horrified. Three young men between the ages of fifteen and eighteen were beating up a very small person. She scanned the the disgraceful event and managed to spot four sigils, one on each man. One bore the towers of House Frey, one the pitchfork of House Haigh and the third attacker had a porcupine which she vaguely remembered as being a Stormlands house. Yet it was the brooch at the collar of the victim that really started her off. It was the lizard-lion of House Reed. A northern house.

“Hey!” she screeched “ that’s my father’s man you’re beating” pulling the porcupine man from behind by the ears. “My brother know Robert Baratheon well, whom I presume is your liege lord. I shall tell him of your actions.” She quickly slapped the Frey man, so hard that his lip started bleeding and while the Haigh man watched aghast, she kicked him in the gut. “My father is good friends with Hoster Tully, he too shall be informed of your deeds!”

With that the three men scuttled back to where she presumed their knights’ tents were, leaving her with the funny little crannogman that they’d been tormenting.

“T-thank y-y-you v-very much Lady Stark” the small man stuttered.

“I am happy to help any person whom is being picked by the likes of them.” She nodded aggressively in the direction in which the hooligans had fled. “You must be Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch”

“Y-yes my lady, I believe they southrons don’t like my stature”

He was indeed very short. About the size of her brother Brandon when he was twelve years of age. She’d heard that the crannogmen of the neck were bitched about even more than normal northmen are by the southerners. Bog devils and frog-eaters being the best of the names given to them.

“Come back to the Stark tent.” she said absentmindedly “We’ll patch up your wounds for you.”

“N-no my lady I am not an import…”

“That’s an order! How did you get here? You weren’t with the northern party? Will you be competing?” She jettisoned out tumult of enquiries, suddenly forgetting all the stern words her father and maesters had given her about asking questions. “My Lord.” she added.  
“I sculled here my Lady, I docked my skin boat by the God’s Eye lake.”

“You came here all the way from the Neck!” she said with amazement.

“Y-yes my Lady” came the nervous response. “I even found the Isle of Faces”

Lyanna stopped in her tracks. She’d always been curious about the place. A forest of weirwood trees, each with their own face, the place where the first men and the children of the forest first agreed to peace. A pace inhabited by mysterious and powerful clerics.

“Did you see any green men my Lord?” she asked excitedly.

“Nay, I thought that I heard some and moved away. I wouldn’t like to interfere with their rituals. The isle is sacred place”

They arrived at a large tent with a flag bearing the the running direwolf of House Stark. Inside was a small table with a flagon of red wine with half a dozen glasses three very similar looking men with three very bland similar sets of armour on three very similar stands around them. Her brother Brandon got up when he noticed them. He was a grown man of nineteen with a full beard and hearty smile. He had a muscular body which was used mostly for in the bed rather than the battlefield. He had a few problems however. The first being that he had tantrums regularly. Her father been called in on more than one occasion because raging Brandon, who had lost some fight or game or not managed to attract some lady whom he fancied to his bed, was trashing the joint.her youngest brother Benjen was sitting next to him, His was still a cub of fourteen. His pale hairless clean face and long dark hair almost made him look like Maege Mormont or other masculine women of the North. He often made fun of Brandon and kept a large smile on his face yet she knew that he secretly envied his oldest brother.

“I’ve unpacked your things, so if you want to get into something these southern flowers won’t shun us for the time is now, because the opening ceremony is in three hours. Oh! I see you’ve made a friend, we’ll have two introductions. Lyanna, may present Ned, our long lost brother who’s been locked away from us in the south for ten years”

She remembered her older brother when from she was young and from the one time he came back to visit, around seven years ago. He had sent many letters and she’d even written many to him. He’d told her of the Eyrie, of southern customs, of Robert Baratheon, the man she might marry. He was much thinner than Bran and about the same height as Ben. He had slightly lighter hair and a shorter, better trimmed beard and much more serious look. She knew he was serious from his letters, yet in a loveable way. She moved forward and hugged him.

“This Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch” she declared, detaching herself from her brother.The crannogman bowed respectfully.”I fought off some southern squires who were beating him up. Now I really must get changed; I’ll be back soon.” she declared, sighing. She didn’t mind loose and comfortable northern dresses but the southern dress that her father had bought for her for the tourney looked about the most excruciating instrument of torture for her  
waist that she’d ever seen. She trudged off to where a maid was waiting for her, leaving her brothers to introduce themselves to the crannogman, as the the final touches were made to the beautification of the castle in preparation for the great event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual any suggestions are highly appreciated. I'm thinking of how I might do something with Euron Greyjoy and him trying to summon Cthulhu or whatever it is. However, that is a long way off.


	5. Eddard III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. A rather artificially elongated chapter.  
> |Usual disclaimer applies.

“Will you be jousting” Eddard’s brother asked his sister’s small companion.

“Nay my Lord” came the reply.”I have no armour”

“You can borrow mine” Ned said “I won’t be jousting”

“I fear that your armour would be too big an…”

“Mine might fit!” Piped up Benjen.

I thank you heartily my lords but we crannogmen do not joust. We do not ride well either as we are more used to boats, seeing as there’s little firm land in the swamps of the neck.”

After this remark the discussion ended and Brandon left so that he might enter the lists. Benjen went back to blabbering on to a rather confused Howland Reed about all the great knights attending the tournament. Eddard went to stand in the doorway, contemplating his reunion with his family after so many years. Brandon was just as wild as had been when he had last seen him and so was Lyanna. He looked out at the sea of tents and marquees. Looking at countless banners of frogs, bats, swans, pelicans, cranes and many more. He could just see the flag showing a three headed dragon signifying the presence of the crown prince. Knights of all shapes sizes walked up and down, a few of them stopping to express their surprise and pleasure at seeing that the Starks were finally braving decent weather, others like a Tyrell man merely stuck their noses in the air and carried on. Robert popped round to tell him where his and the Arryns’ tents were and to ask about Lyanna. Ned replied that she had slightly damaged her dress by putting it on carelessly, and that some emergency stitching was required. After that Ned pondered for what seemed like two seconds, but was actually the best part of an hour, until he was brought back to the terrestrial plane by a tap on the shoulder by fanfares and a tap on the shoulder from his younger brother.

“Come on! We don’t want to be late for the jousting!”

Lyanna appeared dressed in a low cut white dress with a pattern of blue roses embroidered onto it. Taking her by the arm, they walked to the honourary spot designated for them as members of a great house. Both Robert and Brandon were jousting, so that they weren’t present in the stalls. He saw Princess Elia arrive wearing black and red with her army of companions behind her whom were comprised of many women short and tall, from Dorne to the Vale. Some eyes flashed towards, obviously also surprised to see Starks at the tournament. One woman had the most captivating and unnatural purple eyes, an eye colour he thought to only appear in the inbred Targaryens. Lord Whent’s daughter sat overlooking, having the pivileged title of queen of love and beauty, which was protected by her brothers and uncle, Ser Oswell Whent of the kingsguard. Lord Whents daughter was pretty in a way but young, and no match for some of the other ladies there. Thus the jousting started. The red viper, brother of the princess and queen to be, knocked a hedge knight down. The first rounds were fast, as some of the less skilled mercenaries and young men hoping to be the next Barristan the Bold. A Hightower was knocked out by the prince, and one of the Whent brothers went out. Both Robert and Brandon gave Lyanna their favour (luckily the Catelyn Tully, his betrothed, was late), which made her go bright red. Mace Tyrell managed to beat his opponent by sheer luck, as he could neither ride well, nor know where to point his lance. Baelor Hightower, or Baelor Breaker of Winds, as Oberyn Martell called him, managed to somewhat salvage his family’s dignity by defeating some somewhat skilled, almost important knight from the Westerlands. Jon Connington was sent flying off his horse by the famous Ser Arthur Dayne. And at that the first session of jousting was over, they were beckoned to come and feast in the old castle main hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First bit of actual Nedshara next chapter. As usual suggestions welcome. I'm having to write this with the Awoiaf wiki entry up next to it.


	6. Eddard IIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer one. Hope you like it.
> 
> Usual disclaimers.
> 
> ᚦ. This symbol is a thorn. A "th" sound from old English. It should've been in the alphabet.

They had just sat down in the massive hall of Harrenhal, the one said to have originally housed over the normal amount of fireplaces, when the King arrived. Aerys, second of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, was indeed a sorry sight. He was gnarled old man with long fingernails and yellow teeth, which stood out against his white face and silver hair. His violet eyes had faded into a colour that one would expect to find on some poisonous berry or overripe vegetable. He wore his crown skew whiff on his shrunken, dried out head. His clothes and body, despite being in a state of decay, were relatively clean. The King did at least bathe. He cackled like the old woman whom lived about a mile away from the winter’s town who brewed up pale green liquids in a cauldron. He and Bran would often dare each other to peek in through her window and scare each other with stories of her eating children. The King shuffled across the floor like and injured bird. Following was the newly sworn in member of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister. He had been sworn to spite his father, the former hand of the King, whom Targaryen loyalists claimed had deserted his King at a vital time. He had been replaced by Jon Connington. The King made his way over to his son’s table and sat down next to him, leering at Elia Martell. 

“Lannister!” he barked “Go back to King’s Landing and protect your queen. Knowing the stupid, delicate woman, she’s probably already broken a leg.” And then addressing the room, he began “Underlings and servants of the dragon. This is a momentous occasion, where the glory of the dragon was shown almost three hundred years ago by Aegon the Conqueror, when he fried the pathetic ironborn peasants whom dared to stand up to the might of my family. Here at this tourney, my son will regain that glory in the next ten days, and I we will re cement House Targaryen’s power.”

Everyone nervously clapped and after about five awkward minutes of silence and hesitant eating, cautious chatter gradually filled the room, and soon the place was almost as lively as it was before the King had arrived. Then, when the majority of people had finished eating, Walter Whent called for music, and this was accompanied by many shouts of agreement. Some were genuine, some were a drunken Robert, whom Lyanna was slowly edging away from. Ned had revealed that Robert had a bastard during the jousting and Lyanna had been trying to conceal her distaste for the entire evening. “A bastard from an old man, with a barren wife and many other legitimate children is one thing, but a man in the prime of his life? He will never stick to one bed!” Then, to everyone’s surprise, Prince Rhaegar got up, and, producing a bloodwood lyre began to play and sang with a voice so soft one would’ve thought that it belonged to a young maiden. He sang a tragic melody, and and Ned saw by the candlelight, that at the end of the ballad, Lyanna was crying. Unfortunately, Benjen, who hadn’t been affected whatsoever by the song, noticed as well, and teased her about, to which she responded by pouring wine all over his head. Then the official minstrels took over and the dancing began. Brandon and Lyanna both went off and danced, while Benjen went off to swoon over the sword of the morning. “Are you going to ask him for a dance?” Ned had said loudly, causing a nearby dornish lady who was dancing with Ser Barristan Selmy, and to giggle. Robert, being completely and utterly drunk uttered something that sounded like “Yuoshischeredsosh” and then dozed off. Jon Arryn took the opportunity to come over and talk to him.  
“How are you enjoying it so far Eddard?” the man said.

“It is magnificent Lord Arryn, truly spectacular.” he replied.

“Yes I was head over heels when I saw my first tourney, however, it wasn’t as grand as this one. It was just some small thing that Lord Tollet had organised upon coming into possession of a decent amount of money” he paused, and after a while said “Are you not dancing? I know that you know how to dance. I saw trying to teach that lovesick young man at the Eyrie. Anyway, go on, ask a girl, after this dance it’s the last dance. Don’t waste the opportunity. Enjoy yourself! My nephew seems to be trying to start a fight so I’ll have to go.”

Ned smiled at the kindly lord’s words of encouragement and reluctantly scanned the dance floor. His eyes rested on a woman who was dancing with Jon Connington. She was the same companion of Elia Martell’s whom’s violet eyes had captivated him so much. She was also the girl who had giggled when he’d teased Ben. She was beautiful, with a tall slender figure, almost as tall as him and had long straight loose jet black hair that fell down to her shoulders. She was wearing amethyst earrings and a long purple dress which exposed most of her back and almost too much of her chest. Brandon, who had finished dancing and had come back with a loud shout of “That’s enough for me, I’m feeling dizzy” noticed Ned’s rather uncouth staring and said  
“Ashara Dayne, a real beauty, you wouldn’t of thought she came from Dorne at first, she has very fair skin.” and then suddenly exclaimed “Do you want a dance with her? Go on, you aren’t jousting or taking part in any other competition, unless you count staring people down and being silent. Go and ask her!”

“She looks tired.” Ned tried as an excuse.

“Pah that the best excuse you’ve got? Are you embarrassed? Haha. Well then! I’ll ask her for you!” and he strode off in her direction.

Ned tried his hardest to look away but it was no good. He heard Brandon shout “Come on Ned” and, turning his head, saw Ashara Dayne smile at him. There came a shout from Brandon of “Lord Arryn, what’ve you turned my brother into!” Ned looked at his feet only to be grabbed and virtually thrown towards the dance floor all while he tried to mouth “No, no”. All of sudden he found himself face to face with the Dornish lady, who was smiling and giggling more than ever at the spectacle. He nervously offered his hand and she took it. 

“Hello Lord Eddard, I won’t eat you you know. Oh! Your hands are so cold. It’s nice that your brother stands up for you. Will you be competing in any other events Lord Stark”

“I-Euh no my Lady I will not be.” he replied, suprised by her boldness and eagerness to talk.

“Oh good! That means you’re not going to try and show off to me. I am getting exhausted of it. Your brother, Prince Oberyn, Lord Connington, Ser Barristan, all of them!”  
“They’re probably still all better company than me” he replied glumly.

“Oh no! Not at all! You’re better than most of them. You’ve got a sense of humour: I’ve heard it, you don’t show off. I feel quiet men deserve more recognition. Take Prince Rhaegar for instance, in fact you two are quite alike. I’ve lived eighteen years with boisterous showoffs around me, I’d be happy to spend the rest of it with quiet men.

“Hopefully not too quiet, or else you’d have to find poor man who had insulted the King and had his tongue cut out.”

“From my time at court I should think that the King would probably do worse that pull an man’s tongue out. But anyway, onto more joyful matters, what Is the North like? I have only heard stories of barbarians, but you are certainly not a barbarian.”

And ᚦey talked and danced on until the music stopped. He became braver and more confident when speaking to her and when the dance ended he found he was smiling just as much as she was. His meeting with Ashara Dayne provoked a sort of light, fluffy and boyish happiness. It also provoked a different, strange, unfamiliar feeling. One ᚦat tingled and made his breathing heavy. It made his heart beat faster, and heat spread across his face. It caused reactions from his forehead to his manhood. It was a feeling Bran had once mentioned when he had met Barbrey Ryswell. When Lady Dayne offered to sit next to him through the next day’s jousting, he had never felt so excited for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ned coming out late. I thought about writing this from Ashara's perspective. Anyway, first bit of Nedshara, more next chapter.


	7. Barristan and Ashara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to experiment with different POVs.

Barristan Selmy

Ser Barristan Selmy wasn’t feeling on top of the world, despite the fact that he had beaten almost every other knight who came against him. Arthur Dayne was a great swordsman, yet he was below Ser Barristan when using a lance. Prince Rhaegar was going to be harder, but he had so far not been paired with him. He readied himself for the next joust as a squire brought him his helmet. He gingerly mounted his horse. He was going up against Ser Jonothor Darry his sworn brother of the Kingsguard. Ser Jonothor was fiercely loyal to King Aerys, and didn’t even flinch when he heard a woman scream. Still, he had a talent with children, and Princess Rhaenys seemed to like playing with him.  
The trumpets sounded and they were off. He quickly scanned the stalls to look for purple eyes, and then remembered what he was actually doing and turned his head just in time to avoid being knocked off by his opponent. He chided himself for getting himself distracted turned his horse for the second round. Once again the trumpets blew and he concentrated. He hit Ser Jonothor right in the chest and pushed him off the horse. He looked rather comical for a second, as though he was riding on thin air before falling down with a large clang. He looked harder at the group of Elia Martell’s ladies, puzzled when he couldn’t see her. “I’ll ask Arthur” he thought.  
As he dismounted, waiting for the joust between Ser Oswell Whent and Lord Mace Tyrell. He his way towards Ser Arthur Dayne. The knight was talking to someone about whom was fighting whom next. “Ah!” he exclaimed with a large grin when he saw Ser Barristan approaching “We’ll be against each other after the Prince jousts.”  
Barristan smiled hesitantly “Um I was looking for your sister among the Princess’s ladies, where she usually sits, but I couldn’t see her?”  
“Oh?” Arthur pondered, and then his smile returned and he said “Oh yes, she told me she’d found a friend and gone to sit next to them today. “Why were you looking for her? Is it something I can tell her? She isn’t a very serious person so it’s unlikely that it’s too important””  
“No, no it’s fine.” he sighed, and then Arthur, recognising his tone suddenly looked very serious and stony and said “Remember your vows, Ser. You have always been a good friend to me, and would love to see you two as friends, but you are a celibate knight of the Kingsguard”  
Ser Barristan was shocked at his friend’s outburst and spluttered “I-I didn’t mean it that way.”  
Then the smile came back to the sword of the morning’s face almost as quickly as it had disappeared. “Sorry I overreacted. I can give you two a proper introduction after joust if you want?”  
“That will not be necessary, we danced last night. Anyway, let’s see how you’ve improved since Storm’s End”

Ashara

She watched the joust between Rhaegar Targaryen and Brandon Stark. Whenever Brandon jousted Eddard Stark blanched.  
“He’s going to do something stupid one day and pay dearly for it” He explained.  
“I know the feeling,” she replied “i’m always terrified that one of my brothers was going to die. One hears about so many tragedies.”  
She almost had to restrain the man when his brother was defeated. Luckily the Stark heir was full of beans and was up and laughing seconds afterwards. Lord Eddard looked obviously relieved.  
“So, Lord Eddard, do you have any plans for the future?” She asked.  
“Please call me Ned.” he replied “apart from being my father’s pawn, no I don’t. My brother’s betrothed to Catelyn Tully, so I suppose that I’ll become his bannerman. My father might give me a small holding. I doubt that that’ll amount to much.”  
The man looked a bit despairing when she asked about his future. It was clear that his father would loom over him for his entire life. Usually second sons were free yet this one was a bargaining chip, a dutiful, obedient but reluctant one. There was a hidden joy in his stony face and frozen eyes. A smile that she had managed to extract the night before. She could see that this nervous, humble and melancholy had potential. Yet he was an honourable man, and the world was not kind to men like him. So from that moment onwards she determined that her main mission over these next ten days would be to try and see this man forget his responsibilities, forget his overbearing older brother, and come out of the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that should do other Nedshara scenes from Ned's perspective as I'm not very good at Ashara. Them getting together will be gruelling and awkward. Feel free to give both of them relationship advice.


	8. Just assume that any chapter without a specific character name belongs to Ned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I own nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't like last chapter, so I felt the need for speed and jumped a lot. RIP House Stark. Will be re-updated shortly.

It had been a year since the tourney of Harrenhal, since Rhaegar Targaryen had humiliated his wife by crowning Lyanna queen of love and beauty. It had been a year since the events of the knight of the laughing tree. One year since he had seen the woman he loved. He sent and received the occasional letter to and from her. He was going to ask for her hand in marriage after his brother had married the fish. A year since he had seen Brandon, Lyanna and Ben. Yet these were joyful memories. Two fortnights beforehand, he had heard that Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnaped his sister. He was shocked as Ashara, had always said that he was a kind, noble man. A week later his brother Brandon had ridden down to the capital with Lord Arryn’s nephew Elbert, his squire Ethan Glover, Kyle Royce and Joffery Mallister. However, after he had ordered Rhaegar to “come out and die”, he had been seized and imprisoned. When his father had gone south to speak reason, the worst news had come north. A breathless and traumatised Ethan Glover had arrived at the Eyrie, with devastating news. His father was incinerated, his brother had been strangled to death and his companions put to the sword. The King had also called for Eddard Stark’s head. Ned had taken the news well at first, but about an hour later, during a silent meal with Lord Arryn, Robert and some young Vale lady whom had been invited at the wrong time, who was exhausted when she had arrived to the Eyrie, and thus couldn’t be turned away, that he broke. He couldn’t get out of his chair for the next four hours, and he sobbed silently. through the night. He locked his room for the next day, and didn’t even eat, finding himself in the position as he had been just before all this escalated, lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. His brother, gone, his father, gone, Lyanna was as good as gone and his hopes of marrying Ashara Dayne were also shattered. He knew what this meant. Brandon had always told him that Lord Hoster Tully was a greedy, unfeeling bully and that he planned to weed his way into house Stark no matter what happened. On the second day after the crushing news, he exited his silent mourning and braved the world around him. When he emerged Lord Arryn greeted him kindly. Ned demanded to hear the plans, and Jon was taken aback by the aggression in the quiet young man’s voice. He had guessed it, Lord Tully had sent a raven about Ned’s marriage to his daughter. But first he was to sail from Gulltown to White Harbour to gather northern forces for war. War, a brutal thing. War was the thing that men like Robert and Brandon thrived in. He wasn’t one of those men. He hadn’t competed at the tournament for a reason. He prayed to old gods, hoping that just one weirwood would hear him from below the neck.  
And so the preparing started. Robert and Jon called their banners and Ned’s ship was laen with supplies. It would be a short spell on the sea. He would quickly go up to Winterfell to comfort Ben, call the the banners, march down into the Riverlands, marry the Tully girl and then do what this cruel world forced him to do next. He contemplated it as he boarded the ship. Hoping against hope that if he won the war Lyanna might survive. The ship set out early the next day. The captain said that he feared to leave the harbour, as there was a storm on the horizon but they had been pressed as it was urgent, so they set sail into the wrath of nature. The first day was fine but when night came and Ned was lying in his bed and reminiscing, he heard shouts “Ship to starboard.” “She’s bearin down on us.” “Can you seen the motif on her sail?” “It ain’t a Targaryen vessel, nor a Vale ship.” “She’s still coming closer!” 

At this point Ned decided to get up and see what all the fuss was about. He clambered up the ladder leading to the deck. There the crew were waiting, on edge, with weapons drawn and alert. An unmarked ship, bigger than theirs, was racing towards them. The ship that Ned was on was armed and manned, but not heavily, as they would be travelling through friendly waters. The few guardsmen on the ship tensed as they saw the glint of steel on board the enemy ship. There was suddenly a rush of of sailors trying to scuttle to get the ship, but it was two late, they enemy ship was already upon them. Armed men started to leap on board. Ned ran back to his cabin to find his sword, hearing the clashing of steel around him. He fumbled around in the dark, feeling about for the the oblong shape of his scabbard. He found it and drew his sword, rushing back into the fray. He was pulling himself out of the the hatch when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. A jolt shot through him, his vision began to fade and swirl, and he saw black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wordy chapter, but a crucial one.  
> More to come. This chapter isn't over.


	9. Just assume that any chapter without a specific character name belongs to Ned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to reform this story. Also just to get better overall.

Eddard awoke in a dark place, both mentally and physically. Light shone in in small rays through a metal grid in the ceiling. His hands were chained behind him and he was sitting on wet straw. His hair was matted with his blood and his grey eyes were more dull than usual, giving him the appearance of some corpse whom even death had rejected due to its dejectable state. He could hear the groans of diseased, despairing, wounded and dying men. Rats scuttled across the floor, observing the pitiful creatures inhabiting this hole. The stench of rot, death and fear could make a man retch. Ned presumed that the men whom had intercepted the ship bound for White Harbour were either pirates or slavers. They’d killed half of his crew and captured the rest. He’d given up trying to imagine where they were heading or how long they’d been. He’d given up on trying full stop. He was lost, broken. A man without hope. He would probably never see Winterfell ever again so he convinced himself to stop thinking about it. However, every time he closed his eyelids he saw Lord Arryn’s kind, wrinkled face, Ashara’s haunting violet eyes and joyful laugh, Brandon hearty roar, Ben’s smile. All lost now. They were probably ghosts. He tried to think of something. Thinking was all there was to do, except when slices of stale bread and a basin of water of questionable origins was passed round. He prayed to the gods once more to save him. He prayed, prayed again, and waited.   
After at least two days after that something finally happened. Occasionally dead bodies would be removed, and live ones would be dragged out for questioning. When it was Ned’s turn, two rather large men walked in, followed by a rather small and scrawny one. He heard the small one shout orders in what he assumed was low valyrian. He saw the man point at him. Then the two bulky henchmen undid his shackles, each taking one arm, and dragging him along the floor. Through his fading vision he could see that he was still on the ship. He was hauled to a chair in a small cabin. There sat a bald man with golden tooth and a vicious looking scimitar. He wore expensive silks, and the men carrying Eddard bowed, so he was probably their leader.  
The scrawny man spoke first “This was the man whom the Westerosi said was the leader.”   
The well dressed man peered at him “He looks to be weak. Westeros always confuses me. It is a place without slaves, where the weak rule and the strong serve. Which emblem did these men fly.”  
“A wolf’s head, sir.”  
“Ah!” The leader said ”An important family, but they’re poor, disgraced and losing a war. He cannot be ransomed back for much.”  
“Then what shall we do with these men?”  
“We shall sell them in Mereen. Take him away. Tomorrow we sail into Braavos to restock.. ”  
That was the last he heard of the conversation as he was dragged back to the hold. Braavos. A place where slaves were forbidden. After they’d chained him again and left he tried to kick the nearest person to get their attention. He tried the one one the right first. They didn’t respond. They were cold and he heard the rats scamper away from their business. He turned to the figure on the left, hoping that this one might be alive. Fortunately, they were, and a head turned. Their figure looked female.  
“Do you know where we are going?” he croaked.  
The silhouette shook its head and went back to looking at its feet.  
“They’re stopping in Braavos.”  
The figure suddenly went rigid and stared at him.  
“If we could make a noise when the guards at the harbour inspect the cargo.”  
The figure looked alot more excited.  
“Warn the others.”  
The figure immediately complied, and whispering circulated the dingy pit that held them.  
After another long period of nothing they finally heard voices and feet boarding the ship. If the figure on his left had spread the word, the there was still hope.

“What are you transporting.” a steely voice said above him.  
“Some casks of wine sir” a second voice, belonging to the leader of the pirates said.   
“Where from. Where to.”  
“Gulltown to Mereen”  
“Why are you stopping here.”  
“To resupply.”  
“May I see your cargo.”  
“May I ask why the searches are so rigourous now?”  
“Got something to hide, have you? I know your type.”  
With that the figure on the left started to screech. It screeched and rattled its chains in inhuman manner. The rest of the prisoners followed. Ned shouted and shouted, hoping the the bailiff might hear him. He heard the clunking of armour and swords above and then a scream. The shouting and struggling of the prisoners increased. He heard running of pirates from all different portions of the ship. Then the boat lurched. Ned yelled as hard as he could. The fight was still going on. He heard a scream as someone met their maker. More followed. Then the hatch opened and someone armed stepped in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll hear about the rebellion next chapter. Bye


	10. Keep it strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In fearful day, in raging night,  
> With strong hearts full, our souls ignite,  
> When all seems lost in the War of Light,  
> Look to the stars-- For hope burns bright!  
> -Blue Lantern Oath from DC comics.

Eddard Stark was the second son of Lord Rickard Stark,Lord of Winterfell and warden of the north. Even if Brandon had survived, Eddard would’ve been given a holding of his own. He would’ve been his brother’s bannerman. Now, seeing as his brother and father were dead, he was the rightful lord of Winterfell and warden of the north. Whatever titles and positions he imagined, he hadn’t imagined himself begging on the streets of Braavos.  
The Braavosi soldiers had freed him from the pirates’ prison and let him loose onto the streets. He would probably have got more care as a slave. He had been on the streets for about four months. His hair, which was turning grey from the ordeal while he was still nineteen, went down to his chest. His beard was, long, untidy and tangled. His clothes were ragged. His kept himself moderately clean by diving into the lagoon every so often. The people of Braavos were reasonably generous. They would give him pieces of bread, oranges and old clothing. The children called him “the pale man” due to his fair skin, and the parents called him a dead man walking. One old lady, who had been in the twilight years of her life, had decided, as she had been a rich widow with no children, that she would give as many things as possible to the poor in this time. She had tended to the beggars for a while, until death had inevitably come for her. Eddard had gained bedclothes from her, so that he could sleep with less of a worry of freezing to death. He had friends among some of the beggars. Those who had been prisoners of the slavers beforehand. Especially one of the sailors who’d been on the ship that left from Gulltown and the woman who had been chained to his left. The three of them would often collaborate and divide the the spoils. The sailor was called Viþ. He’d grown up in the fingers. An inhospitable place ruled by a very insignificant house from Braavos named House Baelish. He was a bald man with a long black beard. The woman was called Ena. She was a daughter of some minor Volantene family. Due to her family’s disgrace after some corruption scandal, no one had heeded their worries about their third daughter’s disappearance. She had light brown hair and light blue, almost turquoise eyes. Her beauty would have rivalled that of Princess Elia’s if she hadn’t been begging on the streets for four moons and locked in the hold of a slaver’s ship sitting in her own faeces for longer than that. They were trustworthy people, but broken. Ned was in despair. Ena would sob regularly. Viþ claimed that it wasn’t much worse than his childhood life in the Vale. Only that in the Vale he had a loving family. The three of them would often reflect on each other’s pasts. It was while they were having one of these sessions that what Eddard considered the luckiest moment of his life happened.  
It was Ned’s turn, and he was talking about Bran and Ben and Lyanna. When he noticed a man staring at them. He carried on talking to his friends uneasily, keeping an eye on the man. Then, the man approached. The man was Westerosi, but tanned by the Essosi sun. He wore modest black clothes. He was wiry and thin, yet bony. He was on the tall side, but one couldn’t call him tall. He had one dark brown eye. The other socket was obscured by a ragged and weathered eye-patch. His hair was short, and the same colour as his eyes. His main feature was a scar that ran down through his right eye and down his cheek, hitting his mouth and transforming his perfectly normal expression into an eternal scowl.  
“You two are Westerosi like me!” he said, addressing Ned and Viþ.  
His accent was highborn, and extraordinarily, northern.  
“Yes” Ned replied.  
“You mentioned that you were a Stark.” he said “My father used to serve house Stark.”  
“You’re highborn.” Ned observed “Which house did your father come from?”  
“House Ironsmith” the man replied “It’s a small house..”  
“Yes. I remember learning about it. You’re vassals to House Dustin are you not.”  
“Yes” the man smiled, which with his scar formed a sort of bizarre lopsided grimace, and then, with a look of both guilt and recognition “My Lord. So are you a cousin or a younger brother of the new Lord Benjen Stark.”  
“I am his older brother.” Ned replied.  
The one who was incinerated by the King, or the one who went missing off the coast of the Vale, and whom was thought dead, killed by a mutiny.”  
“I was captured by pirates! How did they think that I had been killed in a mutiny? How do you know all this? Do you have any news from Westeros? My brother Benjen is still alive?”.  
The man looked nervously around him. “Listen, you’d better come back to my house. I feel uncomfortable saying this in the street. The walls have ears. Follow me, bring your friends. I’ll explain everything.” The man turned to leave, beckoning them and then, noticing the distrust and worry in Ned’s face said “I may have lived in Braavos for five years, but my house still swore an oath to yours. I swear on the old gods that I am not a Targaryen spy.”  
Ned was still not reassured, but as the others had already got up to follow the man, he decided that It was worth staying off the streets.  
The house was small. “I’m sorry about the condition.” he’d said, seeming strangely unaffected by the fact that they were beggars. “I earn any money I have doing odd jobs and collecting minor bounties.”  
“So what is your name?” Ned asked.  
“Kol Ironsmith.” he replied smiling and offering them a seat.  
Ned remembered his father mentioning that one of Lord Ironsmith’s sons had run away.  
“Why did you leave Westeros.” Viþ asked in his coarse accent.  
Kol poured out four glasses of some sort of lemon liquor. Viþ looked relieved to not be on the streets for once. Ena looked justifiably worried that she was going to get mixed up in something that didn’t concern her whatsoever. However, she was too stunned to say anything.  
“I got bored.” Kol answered plainly. “I wanted to be properly free. Not just my father’s pawn.”  
Ned knew that feeling. “So what has happened in Westeros, he queried.  
Kol sighed. “I’ll try to summarise as best I can.” Then taking a deep breath, he began “As you must have known when you left, after your family’s unfortunate event, Lords Arryn, Stark and Baratheon called their banners. The Reach and Dorne immediately joined the side of the crown. As the ship you had been travelling on returned covered in bodies and with half of the crew missing, they considered you dead. Lord Tully, thus betrothed his daughter to your younger brother. The war started off well for sides... “  
“Wait,” interrupted Ned “How long have I been missing for?”  
“About nine months.”  
Viþ gasped: “My wife will have had a child by now.”  
“Oh.” said a bewildered Ena. “Congratulations.”  
“There were skirmishes on both sides. However, at one point the war started tipping towards the Targaryens. Lord Hoster was a poor strategist. Lord Benjen had to stay in Winterfell, so the northern forces were without proper motivation, and eager to return to their families. The Baratheons were cursed by having to many traitors. At that point, the Lannisters joined the Targaryen’s, and Robert Baratheon was killed fighting. At this point the rebels lost all morale. You brother lost it, only fifteen the poor lad. He called his troops back up North due to the death and desertion among his ranks. Soon the rebellion had failed and they surrendered.”  
Kol took a long sip of his drink while Ned and Viþ took some time to recover. Ena looked utterly confused.  
“So now Hoster’s been executed and Jon Arryn died in hiding. The North is an impregnable landmass, and thus the dragons had to parlay with your brother. So now he is under the crown’s thumb. Winterfell is swarming with the king’s Cronies. Jon Connington is Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, House Darry owns the riverlands and Prince Rhaegar has taken the Vale. The Tully sisters are hostages waiting to be wed to whomever the mad King pleases. That’s all that I can tell you so far.”  
Ned was aghast. Jon was dead. Robert was dead. Benjen must be almost dead inside. Then he remembered Ashara. His hopes and fears about the two of them. What would she think if she could see him now. Bedraggled, smelling of the streets, unshaven and hopeless. Had she fallen to the whims of Aerys II? Was she alright? Had she married another man? His despair was starting to turn into another emotion. Something burning inside him.   
“Is there any resistance?”  
“Aye.” came the reply. “The northmen are still angry, and there’ve been other revolts across Westeros. They were all unsuccessful, and just increased the King’s madness and cruelty.  
With that remark, Ned felt the anger inside him at what had happened surge, and maybe, just maybe a bit of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get ready for another time jump. Ned is angry.


	11. Home Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit short. I'm just eager to get back to Westeros .

Life in Kol’s house was good. A lot better than life in the streets. There was always talk, food and drink close by. Kol would sometimes leave for moderately long periods as he did some sort of job like catching an escaped prisoner. He wore mainly a woolen gambeson with the sleeves missing and several holes in it. His helmet was strange. His sword was curved and strange. He looked like Old Nan’s description of a snark with his armour on. His one eye staring out of the small slit of the visorless helmet. His shield bore the the faint outline of his old sigil. A yellow background with a black sword surrounded by four black horseshoes. He would joke that even he sometimes forgot that his house existed. It was true house, House Ironsmith didn’t really do much except exist. That was true, nobody cared, but it was true. Even the Dustins sometimes forgot to collect their taxes from the family. Kol’s flight from Westeros was justifiable as he wasn’t going anywhere while he was still an Ironsmith. He was chatty. He was happy to help. He sometimes asked about his family, and, hearing that they were still all strong he said “What a pity, the shits deserved something bad.” Ena became more and more scared and reserved. Ned found this strange as she’d been such a strong woman on the pirate ship. Viþ was still himself. Never complained, got on with life. Viþ was never angry and had even started looking for some kind of a job in Braavos.  
One evening Ned said quite out of the blue to the other three “Do you think that we could beat the dragons if tried?”  
Ena looked as though she was about to cry, Viþ pretended to ignore him and Kol looked at him with a slightly bemused face.

“NO!” Ena shouted “I’ve had enough. I’ve been shunned by my old friends, deserted by my family, captured by slavers, been forced to become a beggar and fear rape at every hour. You’re part of the only family I have left. I don’t want to lose another family.” The height of her neurosis had kicked: it seemed that she’d spent all energy on the pirate ship. Her previous determination was in hibernation.

“I need to see my Brother again, he must’ve only just turned sixteen. I need to reassure him.” Eddard said mournfully

“That would be idiotic. I have heard of Lord Varys. His spy network extends all the way to Yunkai. You would be caught as soon as you showed your eyes and spoke.” Kol said.

“That is true.” Viþ warned. “You’re always being watched in Westeros.”

“Kol could go and build up a safe zone?” Ned suggested.

“Who would stop you from doing something stupid then?”

Ena claimed that she was going to bed and stormed off.  
“You’re a sellsword! Surely if you said that me and Viþ were also sellswords...”

 

“I suppose so, but what about Ena. She doesn’t want to go back to Volantis, she doesn’t want to leave us.”

“She’ll have to come then.”

“As what? She’s short, thin and weak.” came Kol’s irritated tone.

“Send her to bear Island?” Viþ suggested. Kol smirked.

“I’m going to put things right.” Eddard said determinedly, trying to be as cold as possible. “I’m going to Westeros. You won’t stop me, and if you don’t want to come you can stay here, but remember that both of you are sworn to Houses whom opposed the crown.”  
They both pondered. 

After a period of silence Viþ stated “I’ve got a wife in Westeros. I’d like to see her again.” he than left the room.  
Ned was just about to go to bed, his head swimming with fear, hope, anger, excitement and determination, when Kol’s slow drawl reached his ears. “You are right: I swore an oath to your family. I am of the north and I suppose that I should die doing something honourable. I know a few sell swords who might join you free of charge. I’ll try to find them. Whenever you’re ready, I’m behind you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may seem a bit rushed. It probably is, but I hope I can start feeling more inspired when we're back on the main scene of things. By the way, please tell me, should Lyanna be dead?


	12. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so long to write and didn't really amount to much. I hope to do better next time.

Twenty individuals had agreed to join their party. Kol had only asked the people whom he trusted the most.to join their crusade. They were trustworthy. Some were excitable and eager, others were just tired of the status quo and wanted to either bring change or die trying. They had a month left in Braavos. A month of secret meetings, clues hidden in nooks and crannies, odd symbols and encrypted messages. Everyone was terrified of one of Varys’s spies catching on to him. Ned needed to stay dead for now. They never met with more than one person at a time. No one, apart from Ned, Kol, Ena and Viþ, knew whom the other members of this expedition were. They would arrive at White Harbour at midnight. They would seem like innocent travellers. Kol would be pretending to visit his family after five years, a just explanation for landing in the North. Ena would then try to get some job in King’s Landing by using her family name. It was normal enough for a Volantene woman to come to Westeros. Viþ would stay with Ned, and they would both lie in the shadows.  
The fateful day arrived. They acquired the rights to travel on a merchant ship which was sailing to the Saltpans. I wasn’t White Harbour, but it would do. He prayed that House Darry weren’t very thorough with their searches. Along came the sellswords, gruff and rough. All of them looked like they’d been dragged across a mountain range by a dozen horses. It worried Ned that they all looked in such a bad state. He suddenly felt incredibly frightened. He had been away for more than year. He thought of Benjen, he wondered whether Lyanna was alive, he wondered if Ashara had married. After all, he was dead, and there was no use waiting for a dead man. He almost felt seasick at the thought of all these things.   
On the sixth day of the voyage he went up onto the deck. He looked through and saw a sight that made his stomach churn. The coast of the place he had once called home. They could just see it. The very tip of Crabclaw point was barely visible, shrouded by mists rolling in from the Narrow sea.

“It is a shithole isn’t it.” came the cynical voice of Kol from behind him. “No wonder I left it.”

“Will you actually visit your family?” Ned asked “If we succeed?”

“Oh no! I definitely won’t. They’ll probably side with the enemy knowing that I’m on your side.”

Ned chuckled “Will you stay in Westeros after this?”

“This is probably going to get me killed, but if we succeed, I’ll think about it. It has never been a good place to be. I want to be free.”

Kol turned away and disappeared, jumping down through the hatch to the lower level where Ena was throwing up. Ned once more thought about his father’s stern voice, his older brother’s constant flirting, his sister’s love for horses, Ashara’s eyes. Then he remembered the mad King’s cackle. Then he started envisaging his father burning while that same laugh repeated incessantly in the background. Then it was him surrounded by fire, with Jon Arryn’s old voice saying “You shouldn’t have returned boy.” He imagined Robert’s corpse, lifeless, rotting, hung up for display. His sockets black and gaping, his eyes already pecked out by ravens. Then something in Ned’s head superimposed a memory of Robert’s booming laughter over the grizzly scene, giving it an eerie feel, as though Robert’s corpse was mocking his stupidity for returning to Westeros. 

“NED”   
For a second he thought that it was this gory, dark mental construction of his mind shouting his name, but then he determined that the voice was too effeminate to be Roberts.  
“NED!” A very queasy looking Ena slapped his shoulder.”

“I’m..” And he did a thing that he hadn’t been taught to cover up by his father because he’d never imagined it happen. He vomited right in front of a noble lady. “...sorry.” He felt almost as wretched and embarrassed as when Bran had thrown him towards Ashara at Harrenhal.  
Ena found it mildly amusing.  
“I came to see if were alright. You just stood there for a while just doing nothing and staring at the floor.”

“I was feeling unwell because of the voyage.”

“You should go below deck and lie down. The captain says it shouldn’t be long until we land. It shall be an experience for me. Considering how you all asked me if I wanted to come.”

Her previous character was returning. He grimaced as he clumsily climbed down the ladder. The haunting images returned. Luckily he was near the bottom, and when he lost it, he didn’t have far to fall. He fell right onto his coccyx. This caused a few of the other passengers to chuckle. He sat himself down on a bench, rubbing his backside. He waited, with his head bowed, until he finally dozed off. This would be the last time that he slept calmly, without fear of death or capture for a very long time. The horrific visions returned for a while. They haunted him.  
He was shaken awake by Kol.

“We’ve landed.” 

He descended the gangplank, looking around him. It was the first time he’d seen so many pale faces in over a year. Fishmongers, fishwives and urchins occupied the small town. Starved by the taxes imposed by the tyrannical Targaryen regime. Four kingdoms had been shamed by the crown. Aerys had imposed his marshals all over Westeros. They had hit the Riverlands the worst. Mocking the land itself. The looked as though they had been particularly brutal. Men looked to be being beaten in the streets.

“Come on,” said Kol “I know that it’s nasty to watch but we can’t stop now, we’ve got our own problems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is everyone's last chance to choose Lyanna's fate.


	13. Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally made a decision about Lyanna. Here is the next chapter. I promise you that action will come soon.

The queen had given birth to a daughter, whom had been called Daenerys. Prince Rhaegar had brought another child back in the war, whom he called Aenys. The child had black curly hair and dark grey eyes. They said that he looked like a Stark, like Lyanna. Ned had been hit so many times that he didn’t even cry when the landlord’s wife gossiped with him about it in the inn where they were staying for the night. The woman was full of information. No one had seen Lyanna since her abduction. Aerys had seized the child from Rhaegar immediately, terrified that his own son would overthrow him. Neither, Queen Rhaella nor Princess Elia nor any other members of the royal family were allowed to see Rhaegar. Aerys was paranoid, and it was said that Rhaegar rarely smiled. He didn’t manage to extract any news about Ashara. He did however learn about the fate of the Tully sisters. Lysa Tully had been imprisoned for insulting House Targaryen. Luckily the King had found the young girl amusing and decided to keep her for a later date. Catelyn Tully would’ve probably married into House Darry, yet the King rejected the proposal, saying that House Tully needed to be punished severely. With Edmure with his sister in the second level of the dungeons of the Red Keep, reserved for highborn prisoners. Rumor had it that Walder Frey had been sucking up to the crown, and despite Rhaegar’s attempts, the King had begun to favour him. Some whispered that Rhaegar was still trying his hardest to get his father off the throne. However, with his family and loved ones being held hostage, the Crown Prince couldn’t act.  
Ned was sitting at a long table with fifteen or so people, including his three main companions. The remainder of the sellswords had dispersed and were sitting around the village, trying to look inconspicuous. A couple had shambled off to the nearest brothel. The table was filled with chatter, as they talked about drink, family and other things. The sellswords had been told what they needed to know, nothing more, and they had been made to promise that they would never talk about.  
“I’d almost forgotten the taste of good ale.” Viþ exclaimed, and Kol nodded with a contented look.   
“It’s so… bitter.” said Ena, eyeing the tankard like some dangerous animal. “I don’t see the appeal.”  
“One man’s meat is another man’s poison.” mumbled a bored looking Kol.

“Westerosi are so undelicate.” she muttered, “You eat meat without a sauce, drink in large amounts all day and then go out and kill each other.”  
A Bravosi sellsword sniggered at that remark.   
After a while Ned got tired of watching the slightly hilarious scene of one of the sellswords trying to chat up a serving girl and, tapping Kol on the shoulder, said “I think we should split up to devise the plan.”  
Kol nodded and whispered to the man next to him. Whispers circulated round the table and slowly the drunken men piled out of the inn, wandering off to wherever they had been designated. Ned paid the landlord and, followed by the others followed him up the ricketty flight of stairs that led to their chambers. He shared a room with Kol and watched as he extracted a very old and beaten up map of the seven kingdoms.

“So.” he exhaled deeply “We plan to travel north.” He placed his finger on the Saltpans.

“We could get to the neck. I know Lord Reed well. He would accept us.” Ned said in a low voice.

“How to get there first though.”

“Which houses might side with us?”

Kol pondered for a moment and then exclaimed “I heard that the King rewarded Lord Bracken for betraying Lord Tully! Do you know what that means?” He said exitedly.

“Not so loud,” Ned replied “but Raventree Hall is an option.”

“Lord Mallister’s son was killed with your brother, so we could also convince Seagard.”

“I’d prefer Raventree Hall. They’re supporters of the Old Gods. I trust them more.”

“Then at least we have a halfway point. Let us hope that the gods will be with us as we travel. Just out of interest, which Houses do you think will support us.”

Eddard shushed him and said “I’ll think about it.”

Ned was worried as went to sleep that night. He kept his sword close to breast beneath the covers. He started at every creak, every bat that flew in through the window, every scream of a rabbit being caught by an owl. He was in enemy territory, with only twenty-two able men on his side. Kol lay immobile, he didn’t toss or turn. He didn’t even seem alive. If not for Kol’s subtle breaths he would’ve thought him dead. He heard the moving of feet below him and sat up, only to realise that it was probably the landlord shutting up for the night. That shadow by the door. There! What was it? It was hooded man, then a knight in armour, then a dragon, then it reverted to just being the deformed silhouette of the door. He slumped down, restless, with his mind racing. Was Lyanna alive or dead? It seemed that Rhaegar had raped her. He needed the truth. Then he reflected on Kol’s question. House Royce might as well as House Hunter. Other Vale houses might follow. Some Stormlander Houses might support them. The North would most definitely be with him, apart from the Boltons. They would all need validation that they were following a Stark. That was why he wanted to go to Howland Reed first. Surely Lord Reed would recognise him? He might even have foreseen his arrival using his greensight that so many men claimed he had.  
He woke next morning to find the others still up. Viþ had gone to discreetly recollect their party. Kol was looking expressionless, Ena was looking worried. They shared a quick laugh while they waited for Viþ to return. When he did, they signaled to the rest of them, and, disguised as some form of nomadic peasant group, the departed towards Raventree Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to start killing people off. >:-)


	14. Dark Wings Yet Words with a Glimmer of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer one.

Within a sennight they finally arrived at Raventree Hall. They were anxious. There was a possibility they would be turned away, or worse, arrested. Ned was forced to wait at the back in case they needed to flee. The Blackwoods were not the most friendly House in the seven kingdoms and had collaborated with Targaryens many times before, yet they usually let their hatred of the Brackens guide them through most decisions. Raventree Hall was an impressive structure, with the colossal and eerie dead weirwood made the castle easily identifiable.  
Kol, trying to look presentable, approached the walls.  
“Is anyone there?” he called.

“State your business.” came a gruff voice.

“I wish to speak to Lord Blackwood.”

“He is ill.”

“It’s important.”

There came a pause followed by an equally gruff highborn voice “I am Tytos Blackwood, eldest son of Lord Blackwood and heir to Raventree Hall. If you wish to speak about important matters concerning house Blackwood, speak to me.”

“May I?”

There came the sounds of a conversation which metamorphosed into a heated argument. “You sound northern.”

“I am.”

“What is your name?”

“Kol Ironsmith.”

“Who are the overlords of House Ironsmith.” 

“House Stark, then House Dustin.”

The interrogation continued thus for quite some time. Kol answered calmly throughout, seeming quite unfazed. Tytos Blackwood leaned over the parapet and scanned Kol like an eagle. He was a tall thin man with jet black hair and a short pointy beard. His face was pale and hard. He looked young, perhaps a little older than Brandon would’ve been were he still alive.

“You may enter on two conditions. One, you must enter alone, and two, you must be unarmed.”

Kol made a show of dropping his sword onto the ground, and the heavy dark doors of Raventree Hall opened, revealing a plethora of guards with House Blackwood’s sigil on their chest. Kol walked in, and, without even so much as a glance back disappeared into the dingy hall of the castle.  
They waited in anticipation for him to return. They watched as the sun sank for mixtures of gold pink and orange on the horizon. The owls, bats and foxes emerged. Ned even thought that he heard a wolf in the distance. The tips of his fingers started to turn red as he waited. Ena curled up. One of the sellswords produced a bottle of something, which they passed around. It was bitter and strong. The waited and waited until finally something happened. The huge ebony doors opened and an exhausted looking Kol and a rather frightened looking Tytos Blackwood emerged. Kol beckoned Ned. Ned took a hesitant step forward, and the sellswords tensed, standing up from their cross-legged positions. Kol halfheartedly beckoned once more, looking exasperated. Ned walked forward, feeling the Blackwood’s beady eyes following him.  
He stood facing the heir to Raventree Hall, who was peering at his his features, then, in a low voice, the man said “You have Stark features, long face, grey eyes, you look young enough, despite your greying hair. Who was the mother of your paternal grandfather?” This was said with the same voice that had interrogated Kol beforehand.

Ned thought. “Melantha Blackwood my lord.”

“You sound like a northern highborn man, but there is only one way to tell. Come.” he started to move back towards the castle, then noticing their distrust, said “You are under guest rights.”

At that they followed him, into the heart of the castle. They walked through corridors dimly lit by tall thin candles. They walked through the courtyard lit by steel braziers until they reached the gargantuan dead weirwood. The Blackwoods accused the Brackens of poisoning it, which was quite possible considering the sheer amount of hate that had welled between the two families. 

“Place your hand on the weirwood’s mouth.”  
Ned did so and said:  
“I swear before the old gods of the forest, the wind, the stream and the stone, that I am Eddard Stark, second son of Rickard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.”

There was an strange uneasy silence in the still night air. Tytos Blackwood looked at him and was about to speak when a light breeze hit them, making the ravens that had settled on the skeletal branches flutter up, beating their wings chaotically with their heads immobile, staring at the trio, before the breeze stopped, and they landed, still staring, on top of the dead goliath.

Tytos Blackwood looked amazed and was about to speak again when they heard a shout from the keep. They looked up to see an old man leaning out of one of the windows.

“Tytos!”

“Father? Father, you’re not well you should go back to bed.” the man said this in the same way that a mother would criticise a small child.

“The gods spoke Tytos, did you not hear them? What happened?

“I shall tell you later father, now return to your bed.”

At that moment an old woman appeared behind the startled old man managed to get him to retreat from the windom. The heir to Raventree Hall turned to face Ned.  
“Lord Stark, Lord Ironsmith here has explained your intent upon visiting me. Do not fear, I will not tell the dragons of this. When the time comes I will join you, but on two conditions. The first is that the Brackens will be punished for their crimes against our House.”  
Ned almost rolled his eyes.  
“Now for the second. I tried to wed my sister to a man of House Vance, yet Lord Bracken also sought that match, and we argued. When House Darry found out, they intervened and favoured House Bracken. Lord Stark, I believe that Lord Ironsmith is unmarried?”  
Ned felt relieved, Kol blanched a stuttered:  
“My Lord I am a fourth son of a minor house of the north. Your sister would benefit more from another Lord.”  
“I have tried.” Tytos said abruptly “My sister is twenty, and ridiculous as it seems, men of the riverlands at this moment think that that is too old. That and the fact that we follow the old gods and that House Darry has taken us agin.”  
Kol was looking horrified and speechless at the prospect.  
Ned came to the decision that he was extremely lucky to have not been forced to wed the woman himself and replied “Lord Tytos, I accept your terms and my friend will wed your sister when we have established a safe place to set up command.”  
As they left Kol said bitterly “Thank you for obliterating my hopes of freedom Lord Stark, i should never have come with you. ”  
“I don’t think anybody is capable of controlling you Kol.” Ned replied, smiling slightly. Kol reminded him of Lyanna’s descriptions of Brandon when he had been told he was betrothed to Catelyn Tully.  
“That was the second time that I’ve seen you smile Lord Stark. It’s good to know that my misfortune is the thing that makes you happy.” Kol said as they approached their party in order to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To explain Lord Blackwood's sister's marriage conundrum, the King is actually suspicious (for reasons which I'll explain one day) of House Blackwood, and has blocked all marriages concerning her. The too old excuse is their way out of risking the King's rage. Tytos Blackwood smells a rat but doesn't know where it's coming from and wants allies.  
> No, Ned isn't his father. Both he and Kol understand the emergencies of war and rebellion.


	15. Making Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to think this up as I go along, so I' trying to add incidents that make the plot less linear. Here goes.
> 
> Usual disclaimer.

It was another gruelling trek to the Neck. They stayed off the kingsroad, which made it incredibly tedious. They ground was wet and soggy. The morale was low, with alcohol being the only comfort. The men were unruly. Kol was more sardonic than ever following his “misfortune” during the deal between them and the Blackwoods. The weather only got worse as they went north. He remembered snow. A distant thing. A thing of his childhood. He had seen the little white caps of some mountains in the Vale, yet he had never ascended to one of these locations due to the fear of the mountain clans. They passed migrating peasants, who were still relocating after the war. Bodies were hanging everywhere, a grim product of the King’s paranoia. On every female body some deep dark part of his mind, he saw Ashara’s face. He hadn’t heard a single thing about her from anyone, yet he knew that she was considered one of the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms and one Princess Elia’s ladies in waiting. He thought it was his own neurosis kicking in. In the end he determined that he would ask Howland and his greensight about her. The ground wasn’t going to get better.   
“Where do think we are?” Ned shouted.

“I can see a fortified bridge with two towers in the distance? It’s quite far off and I can just make it out. Does that help?” said Ena.

“It’s the Twins, the seat of House Frey,” one of the sellswords shouted.

“They betrayed your brother.” Kol said sternly. “No one likes the Freys. We shouldn’t even let them see us.”

“We’ll stay low!” Ned shouted, an they carried on.

A bit later, coming out of a small wood, they bumped into some minor road and were met with sight of an upset carriage. It belonged to House Frey, as shown by the insignia and the ridiculous hats worn by the men whom were trying to right it. Another was frantically trying to retrieve a fugitive horse. The lead one was just looking in a multitude of directions at once and shouting what didn’t really sound like much. Ned deciphered a few of the yells which where mixed in with those of a lady coming from inside the carriage.  
The leader was saying things like:  
“These are the Kings orders idiots!”  
“Father will kill us if we don’t finish this job.”  
“Hurry up!”  
“Catch that horse.”  
“Push it!”  
“I am Stevron Frey, heir to the Twins. You obey me!!”  
Kol sniggered. He sniggered a bit too loudly.  
“How to not listen to your own advice.” hissed Ned.  
The Frey’s who had just extracted the lady looked up. She looked down. She was wearing a shawl over her head, and was dressed in cheap clothes, but her posture was that of a well-mannered highborn lady.  
“Do you dare laugh at the orders of the King?” Stevron Frey shouted.

“Yes.” Kol replied, still laughing. The sellswords tensed.

“This is my father’s land.”

“It is? I’ll be glad to be out of it.”

“How dare you? We are the second most important house in the riverlands, you northern knave.” He puffed out his chest while saying it.

“But not the first. Even a madman wouldn’t make you Lords Paramount of anything.”

“You...you.. I challenge you to a duel!” The Frey looked as though he was taking himself very seriously indeed. He had a determined look on his face. Kol looking perfectly composed, drew his sword and started to walk down the ridge which Ned and the others were standing on and towards the Freys. Ned tried to run after him before realising that it was too late. He could’ve punched the man, who was starting to turn into Brandon more and more after the Blackwood deal. He watched as Kol drew his sword. The woman shuddered and looked down further. The Freys drew their swords. They were apprehensive and clutched their swords for dear life, disconcerted by the confidence of their opponent.

“Last time that I checked, a duel was one on one, bu I’m fine either way.”

“You’re drunk!” Ena screamed.

Kol hit Stevron Frey in the stomach with the flat part of his one-handed blade,causing him to reel. Another rushed at him, whom he sidestepped and hit in the back. This went on for some time, and one of the Frey knights was actually a decent swordsman. However, Kol had better knowledge of eastern fighting from his time a sellsword in Braavos. He received a gash in his arm because of his carelessness. When all the Freys were either dead, unconscious or injured on the ground, Kol walked up the slope towards them grinning mischievously and said to Ned. “You look like my mother.”   
Ena slapped him saying. “You could’ve ruined everything. You’ve made enemies and most of all you could’ve been killed!”  
“And you sound like my mother too!” he said, still smirking.  
Ned descended towards the woman whom had been in the the wheelhouse.  
“My Lady? We are not bandits.” He tried to smile reassuringly  
She raised her head a bit, but not enough for her features to be seen. “You sound highborn my lords?” She said this with a slight stutter. “You shouldn’t cause the King’s ire. My father did and lost his head for it.” With this remark she lowered her head so much that she looked like some sort of hooded priestess in prayer.  
“Is that why you were being shipped to the Freys?”  
She nodded with shame. She was no doubt some daughter of some lord whom had joined the wrong side during Robert’s attempt at a rebellion.  
“What is your name My Lady?   
She looked up fully at his face and he saw her facial features for the first time.  
She replied. “Catelyn Tully my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on my OC's getting far less attention once I get a good roster of canon characters. They're here so that I make this story less coincidental (imagine what it'd be like without them). Anyway criticism and suggestions are always appreciated so log as they're civil.  
> Bye


	16. A reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again.  
> I hope this makes your Monday better.

Kol had started to walk back towards the main party, who found his escapade quite funny. Ned nervously looked down at the woman whom both he and both his brothers had once been betrothed. She was small and underweight due to her imprisonment by the King. Otherwise she was just as Brandon had described. Auburn hair, blue eyes, everything was as in his older brother’s letters. She looked down and shivered; it had started to rain. Her dress was already been soaked.

“Were you going to be wed to Lord Frey?” Ned had heard stories of the seventy year-old man whom had had five wives and over twenty children. 

Catelyn nodded.

“We are heading towards Greywater Watch...” Ned started

“The seat of House Reed.” Catelyn cut in an almost excited childish tone. “I learnt all the Houses of the North when I was betrothed to Brandon Stark.” When she said this her head hung low again, a sad look in her dulled eyes. Ned pretended to look around him in order to hide his expression when he heard his brother’s name.

Finally he said. “We can’t just leave you standing here.”

Catelyn mouthed the word “No”.

“Do you want to marry Walder Frey?”

She shook her head.

“Ena, do you think that another person could fit on your horse?”

“Of course! I’ll enjoy the company. I hope that this incident won’t influence Kol to continue with his drunken outbursts. Catelyn opened her mouth to protest but soon gave in. Ned glared at Kol, who had already mounted his horse. He helped a very nervous looking Catelyn onto the horse behind Ena.

“She looks like she’ll faint soon from the experience.” Vith said.

“She just as my brother described her. Nervous, awkward and unadventurous.”

They rode on. They had to ride faster, and take the long way round at the same time, for fear of a Frey party finding them. No doubt Walder Frey had been alerted and was already complaining to the mad King. The ground got boggier and boggier. The amount of small streams and tributaries of the Trident that they had to cross had become unbearable. Ned thought that his dance with Ashara Dayne had been the only good thing to ever happen in the Riverlands.  
They finally reached the neck after a long trek. Ena talked constantly to Catelyn about comparing Westeros and Volantis. Catelyn either approved or was too polite to say no.  
The swamp was a striking landscape. Heavy clumps of moss and trees with thick trunks hid all hints of a path. Bubbles would rise out of the water. They saw a monstrous lizard-lion swimming in between lumps or wet earth that floated in the murky water. Gargantuan ferns towered over them. All the while there was the sense that something was watching them. The air was heavy, sticky and humid, which contrasted drastically with the climate of the land just a few leagues further north.  
Kol rode up to the border of the forbidding land and shouted. “I know you’re watching. We seek audience with Howland Reed.”  
Silence  
“We are no your enemies. We are not bandits.”  
Then a small hooded man appeared. He had a pointy beard and dull brown eyes. He carried a long rod in one hand, which Ned guessed was a blowpipe and had a selection of small phials around his belt. The crannogmen were quite efficient when it came to toxins and poisons.

“Who are you?” The small man barked.

“The walls have ears.” replied Kol.

“I am Lord Blackmyre, a vassal of Lord Reed.”

“We will see Lord Reed and no one else. We can’t trust anybody, even your northern honour.”

The crannogman smiled when he heard these words. “I laud your caution, ser. Lord Reed will be informed. One of my scouts says that House Frey is out for blood and are looking for a group of men who fit your description. We have always hated house Frey. We will show you a safe path through the swamp where you may hide from the Freys. Be warned that any sign of aggression will not end well for you.”

They were led to a small village of crannogs with thatched rooves (archaic spelling always wins). Catelyn was looking very distressed. Small men and women stared at them strangely. Many of the short folk who lived in the village seemed to sit cross legged next to pots of nettle soup and other strange dishes of the mire. They were given a place to sit and wait.

“What’re we doing after you meet up with your crannog friend.”

“We try to contact my brother.” Ned said abruptly, wanting to end the conversation and return to his head. Luckily Kol got the message. Ned imagined his brother’s death. He saw Ashara’s eyes once more and started worrying again. She was one of the last things that still gave him hope. When he was happy he’d hear her laughter in his head. He relived his dance with her a thousand times, trying to just feel a glimpse of happiness. Then they were alerted. Lord Reed had arrived.  
Ned walked out and saw a man unchanged. Howland Reed scanned his body, looked shocked, then smiled, then ran and embraced him with the words: “Eddard Stark, I thought that you were dead! You’ve changed a lot.”  
Catelyn gulped when she heard his name, and looked very worried indeed. 

“That stern look on your face is unmissable. You must come back to Greywater Watch. Westeros isn’t safe for you. You shouldn’t have come back.”

Ned smiled at his friend. It was properly comforting to see someone whom he knew still alive. Howland was very chatty. He asked him about his and that. He invited them to Greywater Watch where he had places designated for the men to sleep and proper rooms for Catelyn, Ena and Ned. They were given food. Green unleavened bread, eel pies and mashed potato and sort of green paste which the crannogmen collected from the swamp. That night Ned retired with a full stomach. He slept well, among friends. He had built the foundation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate eel pies.  
> Sorry the story is moving so quickly, I have yet to master pacing.  
> Bye.


	17. In a mire situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gaps between chapters will become longer now, as I'm getting more work IRL and that will never stop. I got behind schedule with life in general.  
> Anyway here it is.

He woke up the next morning feeling satisfied. His bed was too small, being designed for a crannogman. He’d almost felt nervous about lying in it the night before, feeling that it might be too fragile and would break. It had been warmed with a bedpan the night before. He stood up and immediately bashed his head against the ceiling. He was not as tall as Brandon or Robert but he was still no dwarf, and the room was designed for crannogmen. His sword, one that Kol had bought for him back in Braavos was lying next to him. His clothes had been washed during the night, and, stooping to touch them in the small room, he felt that they were still a bit damp, but wearable. He pulled up his breeches. Donned a grey tunic and pulled his old, slightly too small leather jerkin over his head. He’d gut his hair short, trying to minimise the grey streaks that had appeared due to stress and worry. He’d also shaved his beard to a respectable length. His facial hair also become peppered with streaks of grey. His eyes looked as grey and dull as they had always looked, yet they now had the added downcast look, given to them by the news of recent events. He stooped and left the room into a slightly, but only slightly, higher ceilinged corridor. He could walk through this one with his head bowed without banging his head against something. A small woman with sandy brown hair asked him how his room was. He replied that his room was perfectly fine. The woman then introduced herself as Lady Jyanna Reed, the wife of Howland. She was skinny woman who wore a simple green dress. She was at least seven months pregnant. She replied, grinning from ear to ear, that she had never seen a Stark before and that she was honoured to have one under her roof. Ned smiled and thanked the kind crannogwoman and proceeded towards the man hall. A long low table occupied most of the room. Three people were sitting at it. An old man was steadily eating a bowl of gruel with a lime green tint. Everything seemed to be green in the Neck. The water, the furniture, the walls, even some of the people. The over two people were Howland and Kol. Lord Reed was telling Kol a story in a very animated manner. As Ned moved closer he realised what his friends were talking about: the tournament at Harrenhal. Howland finished with sentence “And here we are.” just as Ned reached the table. They both turned and smiled at him. He sat down next to the Lord of Greywater Watch. A serving girl came and deposited some flat bread and gruel in front of him.

“I was just talking to your friend here. It seems you had quite a few adventure before you got here.”

Ned nodded, with a grim smile and turned to his food.

“I hear that you want to contact your brother.” Howland continued.

Ned nodded again, his mouth full of gruel. It wasn’t very pleasant to eat, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“There’s a problem with your plan. Benjen hasn’t been seen for at least six moons. Targaryen loyalists swarm Winterfell. No one sees Lord Stark. The King isn’t letting there be any room for your brother to move. Your brother is prisoner of his own castle.”

Ned looked at his food more intensely.

“However, there are others. Lord Manderly, Lady Dustin and so on. They all lost people to the war. They will support us. Boltons are another matter. They’ve had their eyes on the north for a long time, and this would be the perfect opportunity for them to take over.”

“Lord Blackwood…” Kol started bitterly.

“You’ll have to do that soon Kol.” Ned said sternly, trying to imitate his father as much as possible.

Kol rolled his eyes, got up, and left the room.

“Quite a character isn’t he?” Howland chuckled.

“Lord Reed.” Ned began, trying to muster up courage. “Crannogmen see things. They see more than normal men, they see things in places where they are not.”

“Aye. ‘Tis called the greensight. I have it to a certain extent but it is often unclear…”

“Have you seen Lady Dayne through the greensight?” Ned interrupted apprehensively.

“You were quite infatuated with that girl weren’t you. My vision doesn’t extend that far I’m afraid.”

Ned was both relieved and disappointed at the same time. He was pleased that it wasn’t bad news, and that he still had something to work towards. He got up and left, his food half-eaten and cold. He went back to his room. Passing a couple of maids, he heard one say “Starks are so cold.” He moved on. Was it that he didn’t throw himself on every girl he met that he was considered boring and unfeeling by people? He shrugged the thoughts off and started thinking about his family again.

“Lord Stark.” He turned to see a very white looking Catelyn Tully looking at him from one of the doorways leading off from the corridor. “Thank you for saving me from the Freys.” she stuttered.

“It was a lucky coincidence. Thank ale. A sober Kol would never be as reckless as that. Drunk Kol is essentially sober Brandon. I think that the fact that me and Brandon were both brothers is probably the only thing that links us.” With this having been said (ablative absolute), he turned away and continued down the corridor.

He passed Jyanna Reed again, whom he made an effort to smile for. She smiled back in a motherly way. He almost asked her if she’d been practising. He passed a glum looking Kol who looked to be heading back to them main hall.

“I’ll send a messenger to Lord Blackwood,in order to get it over with.”

Kol hissed.

Ned retreated back to his room and pondered. He thought about his possible allies, how to free Benjen, how to even start fighting. He hoped that he had managed to avoid Varys’ spies in the neck. Maybe a that moment the King was being informed. Maybe Raventree Hall was already in flames. Maybe the Bolton’s and other Northern traitors were ready. All that he could do was pray. He looked around the room, and his eyes rested on his sword. It had been a long time since he had last fought anyone. He must be awfully rusty. He set out in search of somewhere to train.  
This was easier said than done. Crannogmen weren’t fighting people. They used blowpipes and tridents. Ned finally persuaded Kol to fight with him. They were both average, but still on par with most fighting men of the realm. They spared in a monotonous unenthusiastic way, attracting a small amount of spectators in the form of young crannogmen, who were amazed by this strange ritual that the two men were performing. He was better than Kol and defeated him nine times out of ten, fuelling the resentment emanating from Kol following his betrothal. After his fight, he wrote the letter to Lord Blackwood, warning him of Kol’s arrival and telling him to prepare his sister. He saw Kol off, as crannogmen sailed him away from Greywater Watch towards the kingsroad, where he could proceed down towards Raventree Hall. With this done, Ned found his way to the heart tree. He knelt before the blood red sap that formed the tears of the weirwood. He prayed once more for Lyanna, for Benjen, for Ashara. That he would see them all alive again. He prayed for longer than he should’ve. It began to rain and retreated solemnly and silently into the green corridors of the floating castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Any queries or criticisms are welcome.


	18. Update

Hello. 

It has been a while. Thank you to everybody who took the time to read this fic. I'm just posting this to say that this fic is going on hiatus. Chapter 18 is half written, but I have started to find it less and less enjoyable to update. I'm not killing it, I've just dried up a bit. I will not forget about this.

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? Please tell me.  
> This only a prologue. That's why it's so short.


End file.
